


5 Times Quentin Lance Was a Dad and Wasn't Sure About It, and the 1 Time He Was

by Joy_in_the_House



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Crying, Drunk Rambling, Gen, Lance is a good dad, Quentin Lance's A+ Grand-Parenting, Quentin Lance's A+ Parenting, Shovel Talk, Slight Canon Divergence, Tommy needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:00:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joy_in_the_House/pseuds/Joy_in_the_House
Summary: Quentin Lance is good at being a dad, even to the kids who aren't technically his.
Relationships: Laurel Lance/Tommy Merlyn, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Roy Harper/Thea Queen
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	1. Tommy Merlyn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinterJoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterJoy/gifts).

> Thought of this the other day.

Lance set his beer down with a sigh, trying to be at least somewhat interested in the movie that was playing on TV.

The apartment was just too quiet, with Laurel away at the legal conference in Boston.

He couldn’t be bothered to change the channel, as that involved looking for the remote, and he refused to put in the effort at 11.30 at night.

The thump at the door caught his attention, and he tilted his head, waiting for any other noise.

There was another thump.

He was on his feet in seconds, moving cautiously to the door, careful to not make any noise.

He paused to pick up the baseball bat he kept by the door, and cracked the door enough he could see out to the hall.

The first thing he saw was a battered young man crumpled in his apartment hallway.

He warily checked up and down the hall before he knelt down, hand going for a pulse point.

The young man shifted, and Quentin jerked back on instinct before shaking his head at his own stupidity.

“Detective Lance?” the young man whispered, and for the first time Quentin looked closely.

“Tommy?” he asked, incredulous.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Tommy slurred, and Quentin sighed. Of all people, it was him that Laurels’ boyfriend came to after a stupid drunken brawl.

“Okay, hotshot,” he muttered. “Gonna get you inside.”

With a roll of his eyes, he pulled the kid off the floor, and half-carried him to the couch.

Tommy relaxed into the couch with a groan as Lance disappeared into the bathroom.

Quentin sniffed, a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he watched Tommy avoid his eyes. He set down the first aid kit and perched himself on the coffee table.

Neither man spoke as Lance carefully checked out Tommy’s battered face.

A few butterfly closures and an ice pack later, the two men were sitting side by side on the couch, eyes on the TV, but not really watching it. Lance was lost in thought, Tommy was in pain and more than a bit drunk.

“What happened?” Quentin finally said.

Tommy winced; muttering something under his breath.

Lance turned to him, trying to at least mask his concern when he remembered this was the kid Laurel was seeing.

“I screwed up,” Tommy muttered again; dropping his head.

This time Quentin didn’t bother hiding his concern.

“Tommy, what happened?” He asked again, gentler this time, watching the boy closely.

When Tommy’s head came back up, his eyes were watery.

“It’s been four years, Detective…”

Lance gulped, having an inkling of where this was going.

“It’s been four years and I’m with Laurel.” Tommy’s voice was wobbly.

Lance reached out to touch Tommy’s shoulder, but the young man shied away with a flinch.

“Tommy,” Quentin tried quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Tommy shook his head, hands clasped in front of his mouth as he rocked back and forth.

“I drank to forget,” he giggled as a tear rolled down his face.

He laughed again, the sound bitter.

“I didn’t forget.”

Quentin stared at him, uneasy, unsure what to do.

Tommy laughed again, and it took Quentin a moment to realize that the laugh had given way to a sob.

Frightened now, Quentin reached out and pulled the shaking Tommy towards him.

Tommy collapsed into the older now with a sob, saying something into Quentin’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Quentin prompted gently, and Tommy raised his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“For what?” Lance gaped, confused.

“For not stopping Ollie and Sara,” he said brokenly and Lance understood in one terrible instant.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy cried again, and Lance gripped him tight.

Tommy’s muttered apologies devolved into sobs, muffled by Quentin’s shoulder.

Quentin held the shaking young man close, trying to wrap his head around Tommy holding himself responsible for the loss of Sara.

Sara.

Quentin winced at the memory of losing his youngest daughter.

He was angry, sure, but not at Tommy.

The thought had never even occurred to him. He didn’t even fully blame Oliver Queen. Quentin knew his daughter was an adult, and she had made her own choices.

But never once did he blame young Tommy Merlyn.

“Tommy,” he said quietly, hushing the young man’s sobs, rocking him gently.

“Tommy, it’s not your fault.”

Tommy looked at him, confusion, guilt, and grief were clear on his face.

“Queen made his choice,” Lance told him quietly. “And Sara made hers.”

Tommy shook his head frantically, tears still staining his face.

“I should have stopped them, then Sara would be alive,” Tommy whispered.

“You couldn’t stop them, Tommy,” Quentin said gently. “Sara made her choice, and no one is to blame.” Another sob from the young man, and Quentin’s arms tightened around him. “I don’t blame you, Tommy,” he told him. “You have no reason to blame yourself, okay?”

Tommy searched Quentin’s face, finding nothing but sincerity, and broken down once more.

Quentin’s own eyes watered as Tommy began to cry, relief in every sob, raw and genuine.

Quentin rocked him gently, the memories of all the times he’d held his own girls like this, and he came to the conclusion that Laurel’s boyfriend was okay after all.


	2. Thea (and Roy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I'm sorry this took so long.

“Detectiveeeeeeeeee….”

Lance rolled his eyes from where he was leaning against his car.

Thea wanted something.

He of all people knew that tone, and it only happened when Thea needed/wanted something.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, almost fondly.

She grinned at him from where she had hopped up on the hood of his car.

“Missed you,” she told him, mischief in her voice.

He passed her the coffee he had picked up for her on the way over.

With a raised eyebrow he passed the extra coffee she had requested (demanded, was more like it) he bring.

“Who’s that for?”

She looked at him and snapped her fingers, a shit-eating grin on her face.

From behind the other side of the car, a young man popped up, a half-manic smile on his face, and Lance stepped back in surprise.

“Whoa, okay,” he muttered.

With a raised eyebrow at Thea, he crossed his arms.

“Who’s this?”

“This is Roy Harper,” she giggled, patting the young man on the head and laughing harder when he scowled at her. “My boyfriend.”

Lance’s eyebrows were beginning to encroach on his hairline, and he wiped his face of all emotion.

He stalked over to the kid and gripped his arm, half-dragging him into the alley a fair distance.

“What are you doing?” Thea followed, almost scared, and Quentin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“We’ll be right there, Thea, just stay where you were.”

Thea retreated, and Detective Quentin Lance released Roy’s arm and stepped back with an almost bloodthirsty grin.

The kid looked appropriately terrified, and had backed himself into the building behind him.

Lance gave him a once over, his critical eye staring at Roy almost dismissively.

“You like her?” he jerked his head towards the car where Thea was.

“Y-yes sir, I do, I love her, yes sir,” Roy babbled, pressing against the wall, scared enough of the police officer in front of him.

Lance smirked before grabbing the front of Roy’s jacket, almost lifting him off the ground. He had a few inches on the kid and played the to the advantage.

“If you so much as hurt her once, I will pull every paper pushing trick I have in my precinct and lock your ass up for life,” he growled, and Roy’s eyes bugged out, nodding frantically.

Satisfied, Lance let go of the kid, and smiled at him, sticking his hand out.

“Detective Quentin Lance, good to meet you, kid.”

Roy looked as if he’d just gotten whiplash, and rightly so, in Lance’s mind.

Lance didn’t mind the kid, he just had to give him the shovel talk, per say.

Roy hesitantly shook Lance’s hand before he smiled shyly.

“Roy Harper. Can I ask a question, sir?”

Lance grinned as the two began walking back to Lance’s car where Thea was waiting.

“Go ahead,” he allowed.

“Why did you give me the shovel talk?”

Lance stopped, and glanced at Thea, still out of earshot.

“She ever tell you about her family, kid?”

Roy nodded, and the light came on his eyes.

Lance smiled, a little bittersweet.

“She lost her dad and brother, I lost my daughter. She’s like another daughter to me, so I’m gonna be a dad to her,” he said, a hint of wistfulness in his voice.

Roy looked at his girlfriend before looking at Lance.

“You’re okay. I like you,” he decided and Lance gave a surprised laugh.

“Glad to know we passed each other’s test,” he muttered, and Roy grinned.

“Thanks sir,” he told him.

“Anytime, Harper. Remember what I said.”

“Yes, sir.”

As the two reached the car finally, Thea hopped off the hood and planted a kiss on Roy’s cheek, and the boy blushed.

“He didn’t scare you?” she asked anxiously, and Roy grinned at her.

Relieved, Thea turned to Lance and launched himself into his arms.

Quentin stumbled back with the weight but hugged her back.

“Thank you, Lance,” she whispered, and damn if his eyes didn’t mist up just now.

“Anytime, Thea. Let me know, and I’ll be here anytime.”

Their arms tightened briefly before Thea stepped back, eyes watery as she smiled at him.

“Lance?” she paled as she suddenly remembered something, and Lance was instantly worried.

Thea smiled once more, a ghost of her grin from earlier.

“Don’t tell mom?”

Lance barked a laugh.

“Fine, kid. But you gotta tell her at some point, or I will.”

She shook her head dramatically, shuddering as Roy laughed.

“Fine,” she groaned, and the two started to walk away.

Lance waved before getting in his car, and as he pulled out on the street, he smiled.

Maybe he’d never get over the pain of losing Sara, and Thea would maybe never get over losing her dad and Oliver, but maybe they’d both have some security.

He loved that kid like his own. _Both _of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was cute. I hashed this chapter out in half an hour after the emotion that is "A Wish on a Passing Car."  
I desperately needed fluff.


	3. William Clayton-Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds himself with a teenager on his hands, and everything turns out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my twitter people for choosing this, and the Wilson continuation, and my military AU!  
The other two I'll have up tonight or tomorrow, I promise. @WinterJoy will appropriately kick my butt into it.

William Clayton-Queen found himself staring at the door, the window dark.

“Of course they’re not here,” he grumbled. 

It would be his luck for them to be out when he had _specifically_ flown in just to see them.

With a groan, he sat down on the stairs outside the house, his suitcase beside him. 

He briefly toyed with the idea of hacking their WiFi, but that? That would just be rude. 

He’d wait for them. However long it could be.

~

Quentin Lance rifled through his briefcase while he waited for the light to change, muttering to himself. 

“Where is it?” he found himself asking the briefcase angrily. 

Of course, he’d lose the file while he was halfway en-route to drop it off. That was just his luck.

He pulled into the driveway as he fished it out from the case with a triumphant grin.

He got out of the car, seeing a boy sitting on the stairs of the Queen’s house.

He approached slowly, feeling slightly bad when the kid startled.

“Who are you?” the boy asked him, and Quentin saw his hand gripping his suitcase.

“Hey,” Quentin said, holding out a hand, trying to not be intimidating. “I’m Captain Lance. I work with Mrs. Queen. Or Mrs. Smoak. I don’t know what she goes by anymore.” 

At the boy’s amused smirk, Quentin tried again. “I just call her Felicity. Apparently, she’s rubbed off on me. I don’t shut up.” 

“I can see that,” the boy said thoughtfully.  “You're Captain Quentin Lance? SCPD?” 

Quentin flashed the badge on his hip as proof, and the boy nodded, satisfied.

“Felicity always talks about you.” He stepped forward, extending a hand. “William. Clayton-Queen. I’m Dad’s- Oliver’s- kid.”

Lance paused. 

“He’s mentioned you,” he said in surprise. “How old are you, twelve?”

“Thirteen, why?”

Quentin tried to do the math in his head. 

“So…”

William grinned. “Don’t think too hard, I see smoke. Dad knocked up Samantha before he went missing. Then I happened.”

Quentin shot the kid a look. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked him, fishing for answers.

William shrugged. 

“I flew in to surprise Dad and Felicity, but they weren’t here.” 

Lance reached for his keys. 

“I can help with that.”

He strode past William, unlocking the door.

“Whoa,” Will whistled. “You have a key?”

“No,” Lance drawled humorously as he punched in his security code. “I shot my way in. Yeah, I have a key, genius.” 

Will laughed, and Lance found a smile on his face. He pushed it back. He had an image to uphold around Oliver Queen, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by being nice. 

“How do you have a key?” Will prodded, and Lance shrugged. 

“I house-sat for them a few months ago.”

“Yeah, you’re nice,” Will said accusingly, smirking at him, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“You,” he said, pointing his house key at William warningly, “have entirely too much of your dad’s mouth.”

Will shrugged again. 

“Can’t help it. Since he’s my dad, I have a right to food.” He started to walk to the kitchen when he stopped to survey Lance again. 

“How about you?”

~

Twenty minutes, a burnt grilled  _ something _ (it was supposed to be grilled cheese, but that… that was not it), and a lot of laughing and grumbling later, the two settled on the couch with a plate each of actual grilled cheese and popcorn.

Lance propped the plate on his lap as he got decently comfortable, grumbling about young whippersnappers, and William laughed. 

“It’s not my fault I make a better grilled cheese than you. You’re older, you should’ve practiced more.” 

“Too much sass and not enough movie picking, young padawan,” Lance countered.

William burst out laughing and caught the remote Lance threw at him.

Lance found himself raising an eyebrow at the Bond movie Will picked. 

“Is your dad on board with your choice in movies?” he asked carefully, and Will turned to look at him seriously.

“Doesn’t matter if Dad is, are you?”

It felt like a challenge.

“The SCPD has a rule to not negotiate with terrorists,” Lance found himself saying.

“Don’t bite the hand that just made grilled cheese, old man,” Will quipped, and Lance chuckled. 

“Hit play. It’s just us, anyway.”

He pretended not to see William’s excited fist pump.

~

“Another movie, Grandpa Quentin?”

Lance twisted in his seat to glare at the teenager. 

“No. Absolutely not. No.” He found himself thinking. "Yes to the movie. No to the Grandpa. No. Not happening."

Will fell over himself laughing as Lance glared at him. 

“It's Quentin. Just Quentin,” Lance warned William. “None of this "grandpa" malarkey.” 

Will grinned cheekily. “Okay, Just Quentin.”

Despite himself, Lance couldn’t help but grin back. 

Who needed an public image anyway? He’d pretty much gained a grandkid. He was going to celebrate.

~

When a key rattled in the lock, Lance straightened up, motioning to Will to duck down.

He moved towards the door, picking up his holster as he passed the coffee table.

He caught Will’s eye briefly before the boy ducked.

The door swung open, and Quentin was met with a surprised Felicity and Oliver’s raised-eyebrow-silent-judgement face.

“Quentin, how- why are you here at- 2 a.m.?” Felicity asked him

“Hey, you two,” he heard himself say. The silence felt like forever as the two tried to figure out why the police captain was in their house and Lance tried to think of something to say. “Nice date?” Even he cringed. 

“Hey, Dad! Fliss!” Will popped out from behind Lance, and Quentin found himself grateful that the kid could save any situation.

“William?” Oliver grinned at his kid, while Felicity surged forwards to hug William.

Lance stepped aside, laying the folder he’d come to give Felicity on the hall table. 

He met Will’s eyes from where the kid was sandwiched between his parents and shot him a wink. With barely a sound, Lance let himself out. 

He got in his car, pulling out. He was halfway home as he grinned suddenly, remembering Will and him arguing over the best James Bond.

He pulled into his driveway and went to unlock his door. As he dropped his briefcase and shed his coat once inside, his phone lit up with a text.

_ *Can we do this again before I leave? I had fun tonight. -Will* _

Quentin chuckled in surprise before texting back.

*of course. Let me know when. How did you get my number?*

_ *Felicity is practically my mom, Just Quentin. Not a far leap. How are you a police captain?-W* _

If it was Queen giving this kind of lip, Quentin might’ve just cuffed him for a night in lockup out of spite right then. But Will? He found himself not minding one bit.

He shot a text back as he kicked off his shoes.

*Watch your mouth kid. I have a routine security check at Starling Bowl Thursday. Think you can keep up on the alley with this old man?*

_ *I'm a Queen. I'll give you nightmares.-W* _

Quentin laughed at the 13-year-old trying to sound tough like his dad.

*we'll see, kid. I'll pick you up, look for the squad car. 3pm.*

_ *yes sir, Just Quentin* _

*go to bed, kid.*

_ *you first. Thanks, Q.-W* _

*anytime, kid.*

Quentin smiled, his mind reeling at the fact he felt like he had gained a grandkid. From Queen, no less. He hoped the Queens weren't planning on another one. Not yet.

He could barely keep up with this one. 

He'd barely started and he was already halfway behind.

Not that he’d change that for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took wayyyyyyyy longer than it should have.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it fits your dream!!


End file.
